


Diazepam

by double_negative



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretation, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, bad at coping, most likely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26732560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/double_negative/pseuds/double_negative
Summary: you're coping with this, one way or another.maybe you should have picked something else.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Diazepam

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for saddling you with such a short vent-fic about Wolf of all people, but I love Wolf and it's a shame I've never written anything for her. a bigger shame i chose to write this.

She wakes up, after falling asleep a healthy 8 hours later, probably the only one who gets their sleep on Shadow Moses. She doesn't dream, she never really did, unless it was sounds of gunfire and screaming which she knows were real even through her sleep. Dreas are dangerous, Wolf knows it, so many people succumbed to insanity after what they've seen came to haunt them in the moments of rest. Her dreamless nights are a blessing, even if she sleeps a bit too deeply, a suicidal frivolity on the battlefield one must say, but her wolves will alert her in case of any danger and she has ample time to get ready then before anything comes directly at her. Not like it would matter either way.

She yawns and stretches. It's before sunrise, but if you're willing to sleep until sun rises in Alaska, you have bigger problems than being a bit of a heavy sleeper. Getting up, she catches her face in the mirror. A low ponytail keeps her hair neat at night, but she still looks somewhat disheveled. She forces a smile at her reflection. It smiles back. Manages to even be seductive, alluring, her trademark, a smile right through the heart, until she looks herself in the eyes, the same old placid emptiness, gaze still a bit heavy with sleep, but also with tiredness, with how much she'd seen. A warmth that never reaches the eyes. She wonders, if it'll get better once she's retired. She doubts she will go peacefully. She yearns for a blaze of fire, for a clean shot.

As she patters along the cold floor to her tiny bathroom, unraveling her ponytail, letting blonde hair fall over her shoulders, stuck on that thought. She's not going to be here long, she's a hired gun, surely soon enough after their success or failure it's going to be a different job, a different place. Something tells her she doesn't need to worry about that. If the plan Liquid concocted is good enough, she'll have time after all that is done. If it's what she thinks it is, she's not leaving this island. She wonders if the wolves will eat her when she dies. She wonders if she should cry about that. Wolf doesn't remember the last time she cried. It surely has been a while since she planned for something that long.

The pills are in the cabinet, a neat bottle with her name on it, the one she never goes without. She takes a pill every time her fingers start to twitch, even if she doesn't plan on handling a rifle, she takes a pill every time she wakes up. It's a ritual of sorts, it makes her ceaseless thoughts quiet a bit and days are somewhat better with a steady hand and a clear mind. At first she tells herself that she needs to be ready for whatever is thrown at her, but then she realises that she clearly doesn't care and starts musing that maybe withdrawal is what makes her tremble in the first place instead, a vicious cycle that will betray you every step of the way, even if you take your daily dose as prescribed and she sure as hell isn't doing that.

They all pretend not to notice, or they generally are that stupid to pay it any mind, after all, she's their Ice Queen. Oh, how she loved that title at first when no one would dare to call her a scared little girl anymore (not that she was ever scared) and now it only makes her uneasy. Wolf is their voice of logic, the "enough is enough" when petty squabbles of men get out of hand, she's judge, jury and executioner if needed and no one has the guts to call her out on her addiction, even if it's clearly ruining her life. At least it makes her a better soldier. At least her hand is steady when she has to take a shot.

She swallows the pill without water and before it starts working, wonders if whoever kills her will have a hand as steady as hers.

**Author's Note:**

> author implores you to avoid addictive substances, but the author themself can't sleep anymore, so they're a hypocrite.


End file.
